Hold On Me
by TopazStream
Summary: An island exists for those who enjoy life as sexual slaves. Everyone is happy to be there. With one exception- Blaine Anderson. He is about to meet Kurt Hummel who is on his way to the island in search of revenge, and the truth about his mother's death
1. Chapter 1

**Rated: **NC-17. Warning, very disturbing subject matter. You are warned.**  
>Disclaimer: <strong>Fiction. I do not own the chaacters of Glee.**  
>Summary: <strong>An island exists for those who enjoy life as sexual slaves. The lights never go out, the champagne never stops flowing and the rich and beautiful play tantalizing games of dominance and submission in a thousand satin-lined bedrooms. Everyone is happy to be there. With one exception- Blaine Anderson. He is about to meet Kurt Hummel who is on his way to The Island in search of revenge, and the truth about his mother's death.

**Chapter 1-Kurt**

It's amazing how revenge can shape our lives, there are people whose every action, every thought, every breath they take is dictated by it, ruled by it. This tortuous need to have some wrongdoing justified can create more problems than they ever dreamed. It was at that moment I realised I was one of those people.

The panic beat in my chest as I felt the plane surge into the air. I was doing it. I was actually doing it! But the fear persisted. Was 'it' worth it? _Worth my freedom to spite my father?_

My father, what a joke_ that_ title was. William James Hummel, owner of several of the largest sexual slave plantations in the world. It was he who created the renowned, but oh so secret, 'Pleasure Islands.' A haven for those who hated hiding their illicit lusts and hiding it in shame from the world could serve as sexual animals for the rich and famous, after months of vigorous training of course. To begin with they would sign two years of their live away on the dotted line in return for half a million after serving their time. Of course there were time wasters, those who seeked only the money and not the depraved pleasure but the training wheedled those out, my father had told me. Suddenly I wondered if I would make it. Not that it would matter that much, my attempting to join would be enough to enrage my father but if I passed it would be all the more sweeter. This game I played was a dangerous one but not a new one. I wouldn't cease until I had the reaction I wanted, the one I needed. I wanted him to admit the contempt he felt for me and stop hiding behind the fatherly figure he had created after my mother's death. I wanted him to admit his crimes.

I was bitter, I knew this but this was more than some poor little rich boy mad at his Daddy. There were reasons behind my feelings and nothing could ever make me forgive him for what he did all those years ago.

"Excuse me? Do you have a light?" A pretty girl asked from the seat next to me.

" I'm sorry I don't smoke."

"Neither should I really, after we arrive that's one vice gone."

"Replaced by many more I hope!" A voice boomed from behind us.

"Noah Puckerman." The man said shoving his hands through the gap in the seats. "But call me Puck. Pleased to meet you."

The woman smiled and shook his hand. "Quinn Fabray. I'm an accountant from New York. God I'm so nervous. Aren't you both nervous?"

"Honestly? I'm terrified." I spoke up.

" Really? Well I'm not. Waited for this day my whole life. Hey!" He looked towards me. "What's your name?"

"Oh, it's Kurt…" I paused wondering whether I should give my real name, but decided against it. They'll know soon enough. "Kurt Heart."

"Heart? Wow that's pretty. Just like the boy himself." He looked at me slyly and I felt myself blushing. "Oh look at those rosy cheeks. The trainers will _love_ you here."

"I think we'll be arriving…" Quinn began but was cut off suddenly by a woman's screaming.

"Please there's been a mistake! Let me off please!" The desperate blonde screamed running into the aisle quickly pursued by two male attendants who grabbed her by the underarms.

"Be careful with her…" Quinn urged.

"That's child's-play, wait 'til she's in the island." Puck said, chirpily. I turned to look at him and saw he wore no smile. Warm brown eyes twinkling, he slowly winked. Blushing I spun round in my seat. If I couldn't handle the attentions of this man, how could I handle the island?

"I'm feeling a bit like that woman." Quinn whispered to me.

"Frightened?" I asked

"No, hysterical." She gave a half smile. "My old life doesn't seem as bad now."

"I know how you feel." I whispered back, feeling the beads of sweat on my  
>forehead. And all the while I could feel those brown eyes boring into me from behind.<p>

"Everyone off!" An attendant shouted and herded us roughly to the exit. I felt Quinn press urgently against me and I gave her hand a soft squeeze.

Finally, on the beach we were pushed into a small gathering, all in all there were nineteen of us. Ten women, nine men and all were visibly nervous. Everyone except Puck that is.

"Hello all my name is Gustave and I will say this once and once only! The men will be on the left and the women on the right. You will then strip and place your hands behind your back. Your clothes will be taken by the attendants and placed in a safe place. You will then be subjected to a light physical examination before been taken away to D-Wing. There you will be offered up to trainers. That is if anyone will have you because, quite frankly, you lot the sorriest lot I ever saw, and I've seen quite a bit. Stop that snivelling!" Gustave slapped the blonde from the plane hard. " Once chosen you will become that person's slave, their sexual vessel if you will. Any task they demand any depravity they desire you will do without question is that understood? You will refer to these people as Master or Mistress. Any rights you had you left on the plane. You're now inferior beings. Ladies and Gentlemen…" He smiled big. "Welcome to Pleasure Island!"

Quickly, the attendants bustled around us as we were forced to strip. Puck was naked first, gleefully handing over his clothes with a wry grin. I shut my eyes as I removed my garments. _Your goal Kurt, remember your goal._ One of the men snatched my clothing out of my hands barely meeting my eyes. To my left I saw Puck look my naked form up and down making the skin on the back of my neck heat and glow. He moved closer to me and I had to look up to meet his brown eyes. I swallowed nervously, my mouth dry and he raised a hand to my hair only to have it slapped away. "No touching!" Gustave called.

My heart beat madly in my chest as he stopped and surveyed us. Did he recognise me? Had my father alerted them? He grabbed Puck roughly around the waist and pulled him toward him. "You're in luck. I'm your examiner." Gripping Puck's shoulder he forced him to bend over, stroking his cheeks with his strong hands. "Very nice, a little soft maybe but we'll firm that up soon enough with plenty of lashings." Puck and I gasped in unison as Gustave inserted a finger into Puck's rectum. Swiftly moving his index finger in and out he began adding fingers. "Not very resistant, shows that you have little shame." Pulling him back into the upright position he twisted Puck's nipple hard. "I mean, look at the young fellow next to you. He is practically in tears." He moved away from Puck and towards me.

_God, no!_ I thought. _Don't do that to me, not to me._He pressed his fingers to my lips "Wonderfully soft and thick." He murmured "And such intense large eyes, over flowing with fear. Physically a perfect slave." He was so close that I could taste his breath. "Wait until your training is finished, young one. This will all be a walk in the park."

"Somehow I doubt that." I gasped as I realised I'd spoken out loud. Gustave grinned pleasantly then pulled me towards him by the back of my neck.

"Don't cross me you impertinent bastard. You have no idea who you're dealing with." Slowly he released me and backed away, never breaking eye contact.

My heart was pounding deafeningly now.

I was here for the next two years, but could I finish the day?


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2-Blaine**

Five years I have been in this place. Five years that were torn from me without any concern for my feelings before or after. I'm an animal now. I don't know how else to phrase what they've made me.  
>I despise the people who come here voluntarily. Two years, and they get money.<p>

My parents _sold_ me into this life. If I was to leave, I'd get nothing, because all my time here was paid to them. _In advance_. Hell, I didn't even finish school before my parents threw me away. The training I received _ensures_I'll never know normal pleasure or a normal life. So here I sit, rotting away. A plaything for the rich, because I wouldn't know how to function on my own in the world outside of this one anymore. That's what happens when your existence is dictated by another's whims.

The fact that I can now treat others as I was treated is little comfort. I'm still here in this… hell. I can't believe I still have a conscience. I would have thought it had died.

But I guess I learned quickly enough. It didn't make the pain any less, and I still burn with hatred for the man who made me this way, but to 'do unto others as has been done to me'?

I laugh bitterly at that. Yeah, I still remember church, and the _God_ that forsook me when my parents did. Still, I'm confused. I know my place as a subservient animal. I know what's expected. How to react. I've seen others go from my place to Dominant, and they are terrible in their 'righteous indignation' — those that were sold, like me. Sometimes their charges don't survive.

The ones who stayed because they had a choice… they—they're different. But their slaves are, too.  
>Slaves like me, we can survive practically <em>any<em> depraved handling. But the ones who are here because they wanted to be… who train those who want to be… they wilt under some of the treatment _I've_ had to survive.

Why didn't I just give up? Die? Because my bastard master wouldn't let me. He made sure that I was healed enough to live after any extensive training or _personal_use session that left my blood pooled around me. Made sure I had nothing available to me to end my life. The first year was the worst.

No, I take that back… the first day of the rest of my life was a living hell… the first twenty-four hours. I was stripped. Prodded, and then separated from the people who would be _paid_ when they left — and they made sure to inform me of just how low my place was compared to everyone else.  
>Lowest of the low. Less than the dirt under their feet. Because I wasn't good for anything but a pleasure slave — the life I now found myself facing.<p>

After that, I was taken to a room. Two men twice my size waited. Not that big, I suppose, since I was only sixteen, but in my fear-paralyzed mind, they were big enough.

Then the first of the _privileged_ entered. The man whom I learned later had bought me. Had lusted after me. William Hummel. The man I learned to adore in public, a façade that hid the seething hatred that burned inside of me… Of course I had to learn to hide it. That day, I did anything but. I swore, cursed, screamed, pleaded and eventually prayed for death. But as I said, _God_ had abandoned me.

Hell, how stupid I was to believe there was a God, when people like William Hummel lived and thrived at their work.

But back to my first twenty-four hours. My _first_. He was silent. It wasn't until later I learned his name. Learned _he_ would become 'God' to me. He motioned to the two men, who grabbed my arms and bent me over a sawhorse.

One pressed his weight against me while the other fastened straps around my wrists and ankles. The stress to my back grew. I began cursing the man, my parents, the discomfort of the wood biting into my chest. But it faded the moment he thrust his hard cock into my virgin ass. I screamed. My vision darkened. How the hell could he not hurt? Fire burned inside me. Tears streamed down my face as he pounded into me, his fingers digging into my hips. I don't know how long his skin beat against mine, but suddenly there was a new burning and then he was falling against me, breathing heavily.

My throat was raw from my screams. It hurt to breathe. This position made it hard to breathe and _his_ weight on top of me made it nearly impossible.

Eventually, he fell out of me. Then he kissed my back and stood up. I heard his clothes rustle, and the door open and close twice. Then I was taken again.

I lost count of the number of people who used me that day. The first one to fuck my mouth, I bit. I _very_ quickly learned the error there. Something struck my sweat-wet back and I managed to scream in spite of my raw throat.

A cat-of-nine-tails, I learned later. It tore the soft flesh of my back a second time, and continued striking me as the cock rammed back into my mouth.

As the cock released its warmth into my throat, I began choking from tears and lack of breath. I blacked out.

I still bear the scars of those first twenty-four hours. In body and mind. I don't think I have a soul anymore. I just exist. Because it's expected. Because it's what I've learned.

And in five years of use, they've been added to. So much so that they weigh heavily on me. But what else can I do? Who would have me like this? Who would help me? No one. I've learned that.

I do have a few comforts now. Now that I've survived the five years. I have a pallet on the floor. They gave me a bed, but I didn't want it. There are too many tortures associated with beds. The only time I ever felt any relief of _any_ kind was when I was left to my pain on the floor of my prison. The white room. The room with nothing in it, until I had proved I would live no matter what they did to me.  
>It had to be repainted when they moved me out of it… well, the floor, anyway.<p>

I have my own handcuffs now. My own fetters, too. Now that I'm the 'favoured'. Or was. Now I am to become what they are. And in spite of it all, I don't know if I can.

The door to my room opens. It's _him_. The only person I truly _know_ I could treat the way he treated me. He's brought others. How typical.

"Blaine, I need a favour." He says as they move to me. I am supposed to be safe here. This is supposed to be my haven. It always was before. Now I don't even have that.

Two men hold my arms as the one with the whip walks behind me. The whip begins to fall against my bare skin. It has to fall fairly hard for me to feel it any more. So much scarring.

He walks up, and begins jerking my soft cock. Roughly. The only way he's ever been with me. It's all I can do not to spit in his face as the blows continue to rain down upon my back and buttocks.

"I'm assigning you your own slave now. I want him trained as you were trained. He's come here to spite me, you see. He thinks I killed his mother. I didn't, but he won't listen to reason."

My cock is hard now, throbbing, as I feel the first warmth begin to trail down my back. Hear the change in the sound of the whip as if falls against my skin.

He grabs my balls and squeezes, then tugs roughly. I don't cry out. Not like I did those first days. Instead I give in to the feelings building in me, the pain and need for release. This is the only way he lets me have my release. With pain. He squeezes again as one of the men holding me jams his finger into my ass.

William Hummel has always loved the fact that I'm still tight after five years of use. "Come, Blaine. Come now!"

And I do. Because that is my existence. To do as he says. When he says. I close my eyes as my head falls back and I shoot into the warm mouth that now envelopes my cock.

Finally my body goes limp. The whip stops instantly. The last man to whip me longer suffered seriously at the hands of the most deviant of Dominants.

I shiver as a tongue licks my cock one last time. The men continue to hold me as I come back to reality.

William Hummel is standing before me once again, that godforsaken smirk on his face as he wipes his hand with a silk handkerchief.

The man who swallowed my offering is behind me now, rubbing the salve onto my back. It has anti-germ properties. Ever since that time four years ago the lashes got infected and nearly killed me. I suppose I should be thankful he cares for me so.

"I'm having a bed put in, too. I expect you to use it! Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded. When was the last time I spoke, other than to scream, or groan, or moan as required? I must still know the fundamentals, because I can still think. Can't I?

"Now remember, Blaine. I'm expecting the best from you. I want him broken. I want him to come crawling back to me, begging forgiveness that he ever doubted me."

Why does he call it a favour? He knows he could order me to do almost anything, and I would.

Fortunately he's never asked me to kill for him.

I swayed a bit on my feet when the others released me and left my room. I rubbed my slightly numb arms.

"Oh, and your new slave? He's my son, Kurt."

I must have forgotten myself, shown my surprise, because he nodded his head and laughed loudly. No wonder he was such a bastard… if he'd subject his own son to this….

My vision went black. Hands grabbed me and lowered me to my pallet. When I opened my eyes we were still alone. Had he? No, it wasn't possible. He'd never shown me any kindness in the last five years. Why now?

"Remember, Blaine. I want Kurt to learn that it's not wise to go against my wishes. I loved his mother, and I love him, but I've been much to easy on him, or he'd never have considered this. I'm relying on you to teach him the error of his ways. _Don't_ fail me."

With that threat ringing in my ears, he left me to my pain. I let the darkness take me again.


	3. Chapter 3

_**A.N: There is a non con scene in this chapter. Not sure if anyone is reading, if you are it would mean the world if you dropped me a review!**_

**Kurt**

After Gustave had examined us we were herded off the beach into a large hall. My legs felt weak beneath me and I was short of breath, I stumbled as we moved and strong arms righted me. "Take it easy, son." It was Gustave. "This will only be more of an ordeal if you insist on making it one." I nodded and attempted to slow down my breathing.

We were lined up once again, and made to kneel before the awaiting trainers. Forbidden from eye contact there was no way I could see those who observed us. I wondered if my father was among them, whether he had seen me and if he had what was it that he felt?

"This one's nice and strong looking. Make him stand up." A woman's voice asked to my right. I felt more then saw Puck being dragged to his feet. The woman made appreciative sounds and then the sound of a slap resonated throughout the building. I winced and squeezed my eyes shut. The woman was pleased with Puck's composed reaction. "I want him, send him to my chamber as soon as possible. "First have him bathed and decorated. I'm thinking dark brown accessories to accentuate his eyes."

"As soon as possible? Understood, Madame Corcoran." Puck was quickly taken away and the voices left. Strangely, as much as Puck had made me feel nervous, his absence hit me. It caused a hollow, empty feeling inside, but this was quickly replaced by my awakening fear.

"Now, this one is lovely. Help him up." A man's voice just above me. "You heard me! Help him up."

My hair was grabbed and used as a lever to make me rise, roughly the aide let go with a violent thrust. "Oh, lovely indeed. Look at those large innocent eyes. Ivory skin and such a pout." The man appeared to be in his early sixties, with dark skin that was more likely out of a bottle then the sun. "Has William seen him yet? He's just his type. Slender and delicious? No? His loss, my gain, I say." I felt myself begin to balk at the thought of being alone with this man for one minute, let alone six months of training. He took a step towards me and reached a wrinkled hand outward…

"Wait!" cried a new aide entering the hall. "You can't have him. I was sent to tell you." He stopped breathlessly, bending over and placing his hands on his knees. "Orders of William Hummel," he gasped.

"William Hummel? Damn, I knew he was his type." He looked at me regretfully while I stared at him, shocked. _My father knew!_Realisation dawned on me. He must have known for some time, perhaps had been told by our family lawyer who I had arranged the deal with. The lawyer had been adamant I tell my father; it looked like he had saved me the trouble. My father had let it go this far to prove a point, to cause me humiliation. I felt deeply angry that he would continue to act out his false parental instincts, but oddly relieved as well. At least this proved he did care for me a little. Deep in my heart, I knew that I could never have gone through with this. I was a little disgusted with myself. Here was I, the 'great rebel', who had set back and waited for 'Daddy' to rescue him. Feeling defeated I closed my eyes tightly.

"He is to be prepared and taken to Master Blaine's room." The aide continued.

"Master Blaine? The ex-slave? I don't know which one is luckier." The man sighed, staring at me again. "Strange that William would arrange this, isn't it? He usually keeps the best for himself." Everyone around him murmured his or her agreement, while I gaped in astonishment. I wasn't being released? What was my father up to?

Arms gathered my own and began to pull me to the exit. Numb, I made no effort to resist. _He had done this on purpose._He knew I was here and didn't care. To my shame I felt tears fill my eyes.

"There, there my love," the aide soothed. "It's going to be okay."

But it wasn't going to be okay, not now. I had travelled all this way for proof about what I meant to my father and now I had my answer.

I meant _nothing._

* * *

><p>The bath was wonderful. The moment I slipped into the steaming water and the aide's hands started to caress me, my misery evaporated. I forgot all about my father, my mother and my predicament, because all that mattered were those expert hands lovingly exploring my body. I writhed beneath them, threw back my head and moaned little oaths of worship. But then I was pulled from that dreamy water. Roughly, they dried me off and quickly began to prepare me. My body was covered with dust that created a golden sheen, my eyes had eyeliner applied to make them appear larger and my lips were rouged. Finally they allowed me to see myself, and all I could do was stare at the transformation in the mirror. And feel the rising panic in my stomach.<p>

Once the makeover was complete, I was pushed to the floor. I groaned for mercy as they applied cuffs to my hands and bound them behind my back. Manacles were crudely attached to my feet and my cries were cut short by a firm slap to my face and a gag round my mouth. I struggled against my bonds but the attendants reprimanded such gestures with blows to my naked, exposed back. Once again, I was dragged to my feet as they pulled me along a dark corridor. My feet barely touched the floor below me.

"This is it." The man who held my left arm said. "Open the door, Marco." I was pushed into the room. Stubbornly, I stuck my heels into the floor as I took in the sight before me.

In the bleak, dark chamber stood a wrought iron canopy bed. It's presence almost colossal-like in the virtually empty room. But it wasn't the bed that startled me, but the one who lay upon it. Naked and entangled in the black silk sheets slept a man. No older than me, perhaps even younger. The aides won their fight as they pushed me, grabbing me roughly they threw me to the foot of the bed.

"Master Blaine? Your slave is here." The man didn't awake so 'Marco' was given the task of disturbing him. He nudged his shoulder and repeated his name loudly. Blaine on waking and seeing Marco before him, reacted panic stricken. He pushed himself up against the bed and then stared around in complete confusion.

"Your slave, Master Blaine? Remember?" Marco pressed, staring intently at the frightened man. "What're your orders."

The young man opened his mouth to speak but no sound left his lips. Shaking his head, as if clearing it. He attempted again. "My orders?" The voice was low and husky. Almost as if dust lay upon his voice box.

"What would you have us do? Do you need our assistance?" Finally, my Master's eyes came to rest upon me. His eyes widened and he took a sharp intake of breath. He held it for a long time. Then the air left his mouth like a snake's hiss. He looked back to the attendants.

"Leave us for now. I'll call when I need you." The words were confident but the delivery was not. His amber eyes darted nervously around the room as he climbed from the bed. "Now, please." He repeated and the aides left quickly, not even shooting us a backward glance.

He sat with his head in his hands for a long moment. "My slave." He whispered sounding almost amused by this. Tilting his head he threw a sideline glance at me, while I tried to avert my gaze from his beautiful nude frame.

"Stand up. Do you need help?" he asked in his low voice. I shook my head and struggled to my feet, keeping my eyes to the floor.

Blaine rose from the bed and approached me. Stopping inches from me, I could feel his hot breath on my scalp as if piercing me. Slowly he walked round me. He felt the lower base of my back, trailing my spine with his long fingers and whispering to himself. Coming to face me again he tipped my chin upward, so that I was staring into his beautiful brown eyes.

"Why did you do this to yourself, Kurt?" he whispered. "I would love nothing more than to show you the love you no doubt yearned for growing up. But there is no love here. However there _is_ violence and there _is_ pain, and there _is_ hatred. There is no room here for love. Even I have to play my part." He smiled sadly. "I think that's the most I've said since I've been here." The smile slipped and his face grew serious again. "Kurt…my part…it's…It is the part anyone else can do, and if I refuse it someone else _will_do it and I'll be punished. No matter how we proceed William Hummel will get us to play the roles we must." My eyes felt too large for my face as I stared intently at him. The sadness in his voice, the sorrow in his eyes. It was almost too much for me to take.

"I…" But he silenced me with a finger to my lips.

"You must never talk unless asked to, Kurt. That is the first lesson I will teach you as a Master." He took a step backward and ran his fingers through his hair. "It's time to play our roles…" He whispered moving towards the door. "Come back in. He's ready for you." My Master called.

Stunned, I stared in confusion as the three aides returned. Blaine nodded his consent and they pounced. Grabbing my arms and legs they threw me face down the bed. Marco held my shoulders down as the other two held my legs. I struggled against them and I struggled against my bonds as Blaine approached my bed.

"I'm sorry, Kurt." He moaned as he entered me, pain coursing through my body "I'm so sorry."

For hours it seemed I was used and abused in every way possible. By the aides, by my Master. I lay upon the stained sheets. My knees pulled up to my head. Sometime during the assault I'd felt myself go physically and mentally numb. But now, hours later, that numbness was fading. Too my surprise I felt the damp pillow beneath my cheek as tears ran down my face. The pain from the rape, the beating and the lashings dominated my whole body. I longed for that numbness. I longed to be the person I was before I entered the room. In those desperate moments I even longed for death.

Then gentle hands caressed my aching back, the fingers soaked in ointment. Too weak to even cower I allowed those fingers to rub the ointment into my back. It cooled the fiery passion of the cuts in my skin and the calming manner in which it was applied helped me drift off.

I think my Master whispered something to me, something soothing. But I fell into darkness without hearing the words.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter -The Pilot**

I watched the latest batch of candidates. Some were smug. Some complacent. Some were openly proud and defiant. My gaze settled on the one who easily seemed the most terrified of the men. He was young. Pretty. Beautiful sea green eyes.

I secured my airplane. One of the attendants saw me looking and walked over.

"A near perfect specimen, that one."

I nodded silently, and watched the way he moved. Nervous, but graceful. I licked my lips and swallowed. The attendant grinned.

"Normally, the slaves have to complete training before receiving visitors, but since the trainers _have_completed training, perhaps something might be arranged?"

I looked at him. Was he trying to bribe me? Or curry favor with Hummel? Hummel wasn't a man to fool around with. And this job paid more than any I could find in the _real_world. Still.

I looked toward the building the slaves-in-training had disappeared into.

"What's the catch and what'll it cost? I happen to like being in Mr. Hummel' employment. I don't fancy losing such a cushy job."

The attendant looked around and I immediately felt in the better position.

"There's no catch, Mr. Anton. I—I just need a favor."

I looked up, as if considering. Of course I wanted to get inside, but I didn't want him to know how badly.

"Please, Sir. I can assure you, Mr. Hummel need not know. It would be bad for myself as well. Very bad."

"Okay." I smiled. "What is it?"

* * *

><p><strong>Blaine<strong>

I woke with a start, forgetting for a moment where I was, not recognizing anything or anyone.

I scooted away from the figure looming over me, not thinking of the beating such an action would earn me. I stopped when my raw back made contact with the cold metal behind me and looked around, trying to remember.

The voice spoke again and I forced myself to focus. It _wasn't_William Hummel. It was Marco. Telling me the words I didn't want to hear. Reminding me of the task I didn't want and never asked for.

I shook my head. I didn't want to do this, I knew that now, but there would be no quarter given if I didn't. I knew that, too. Five years is a long time to make no sound, other than the guttural language that was expected, but I found it was like many activities. Once learned, you don't forget.

I questioned what Marco said and he repeated it. I looked around the room and for a moment I wondered where my pallet had gone. Perhaps I'd give my slave the bed — but no, William Hummel had been specific. _I_was to use the bed.

Then I looked down at the foot of the bed I had found myself on, and my heart stopped. _This_was the son of William Hummel? How was it possible? He was too soft, too smooth, too pale, too… beautiful. I realized the attendants were waiting. I spoke yet again.

"Leave us for now. I'll call when I need you."

It was easier to speak this time. After they left, I questioned Kurt. He didn't look stupid, but he had obviously not thought things through clearly. And it was _my_godforsaken task to teach him that.

I ordered him to stand and looked him over after he'd stumbled to his feet. Ghosted my fingers over his smooth skin. My chest tightened painfully. He was stunning and I didn't want to mar that perfection. But if I didn't, I _knew_someone else would. Perhaps even Mr. Hummel himself.

I tried to explain all this to Kurt. Tried to prepare him for what I had to do. It was more than I'd been given when I was brought here. But where I hurt, deep inside, I knew William Hummel had not. The fact that his son was here, being subjected to our tender mercies was proof of that. Not that I had ever doubted it in _my_time here.

All I could do was apologize as we began. It wasn't enough, I knew, for him or for myself.

Kurt screamed, just as I had five years ago. Screamed and cursed and struggled. I withdrew into myself, let the animal in me come to the fore. Let it do what needed to be done to survive another day.

My mind is still hazy about everything. The animal part of me has no memory. It's safer that way. If I could remember every depravity that had been forced on me, that I had been forced to do to survive, I think I'd be insane right now.

I know that Marco and the other two were some of the same who had used me _my_first day. They excelled at quickly breaking the spirit of a person. Or at least the body.

Marco could come just from whipping a man. Hadrian and Gavin had to hear screaming. Derived pleasure from knowing they could hurt someone and not be punished for it.

Eventually the animal withdrew and I was forced to confront what we had done. Kurt had been whipped, beaten, and fucked at both ends. Several times.

Marco raised the whip again. They still hadn't had enough, but I had. I couldn't stomach any more. I pushed them off. Screamed at them to get out, but I grabbed Marcus.

"The key!" I demanded hoarsely. I'd used my voice too much.

He glared at me, but now that I was a Dominant, he dared not refuse me. He slapped the key onto my palm, then walked out behind the others. I'd be damned if he was allowed to touch Kurt again.

I looked back to the bed where Kurt sobbed quietly. I hated myself at that moment and I don't know why. How could Kurt have done this to me, with just a look?

At least I'd kept them from tearing his skin the way they'd torn mine. He was bleeding some, but it would heal… maybe… if I was allowed to let it heal.

While he lay on the bed, curled like a baby, I looked around my changed room. An assortment of whips hung from the walls now, in addition to other sadistic items.

Absently, I picked up the whip Marco had used and looked at the blood now staining several of the straps. I remembered having to clean the whip that had been used on me. I could barely move that next day and because I had taken so long, I had to clean it again the day after that as well. I dropped the whip, rather than hang it back where it belonged.

In the five years I'd been here, the training had changed. If they had ever left me in a room like this alone, I'd have hung myself. But then, I forget. I was sold into this life. Kurt came willingly. At least, supposedly. But after seeing his eyes, eyes full of despair and abandonment, I'm not so sure.

I don't know. I'm confused again. I know what William Hummel told me, but I also know what my slave instincts tell me. And something conflicts somewhere. I don't know what to think or what to do.

Looking through the chest sitting on the floor to one side of the whips, I found what I was hoping for. A jar of the antiseptic cream.

I went back to the bed and unlocked the manacles, throwing them against the wall in disgust. Then I unfastened the handcuffs and threw them, too. The only rebellion I was capable of at the moment.

His wrists were raw and bleeding, but I'd take care of them later. Right now, remembering my own experiences, I wanted to take care of his back first.

Climbing carefully onto the bed, so as to not jar him further, I opened the container and scooped a generous amount with each hand. I used the tips of my fingers to spread it on gently over his battered body.

He moaned softly. I shivered. His voice, his screams, were like nothing I'd ever heard. Nor was I likely to again. Except as the trained moans and screams we all learned to make.

Then I made what would likely turn out to be a serious error in judgment on my part.

I told Kurt not to worry. I told him I wouldn't let anyone else hurt him again.

When I finished my ministrations to his back I noticed he was asleep. I did his wrists next and he whimpered quietly, too exhausted to wake from the sting I knew the cream initially caused.

When I finished, I lay down beside him, listening to him breathe. Another error in judgment, I suppose; but one that made sense to my tired mind at the time.

As I lay there my insides twisted. I had beaten a man. Treated him as I'd been treated. I felt sick. I couldn't have done any differently. Marco would have run straight to Hummel. I hadn't lied to Kurt. His father _would_have his way with us. One way or another.

I can't do that again… I can't. I ran a hand through my hair as tears began to fall. I haven't cried since that first week. What is wrong with me?

I looked at Kurt's sleeping form again. He seemed to be sleeping deeply. Pain and fear do that to you. I wondered if he would wake screaming from nightmares. I did. Every night for the first month. Sometimes I still do.

How could I protect him when I couldn't protect myself? How could I do what I'd been ordered to do? How could I break him? I couldn't. I knew that now. I couldn't hurt Kurt like that again. But if I couldn't hurt him, I couldn't protect him.

I groaned and ran both hands through my hair. The problem was driving me crazy. It was bad. For both of us.

With that terrible knowledge foremost in my brain, I fell into a troubled sleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**William Hummel**

We hurt the ones we love the most, it's a subtle form of compliment. Well, that's what I told myself, as I stood before the washbasin in my private suite.

"My son," I whispered. 'My flesh!' My mind seethed. Here locked amongst these walls, having God knows what pain and pleasures performed upon him.

Vice has always been an occupation in my bloodline, right back to the olden times I should think. There was probably a pimp by the name of Hummel scrounging for cash in a dirty back street not knowing this is where our family fortune would be made. But the pain? The sheer pleasure in surrendering your body to a vindictive stranger? That was my gamble and mine alone, and now look at me. One of the richest men alive and the world on tenterhooks wanting to know where all this money came from. No matter how seedy people felt my occupation was, I'd always felt pride in what I did. That I solely could provide theses little pleasures to the hungry masses. At least pride was what I felt until _she_ found out. After that I felt weak and useless. I barely felt a man. The things she took pride in were very different. She took pride in the fact that I, rich and powerful, could not provide the one thing we were put on this earth for. She basked in this pleasure, although she never said. I saw it in her eyes when we made love, along with her misery. As much as I loved her, I knew she was no longer mine. Finally, when she was gone that pride was taken over by rage, by a sense of duty, by lust. I threw myself into the enterprise, for the first time ever actually lying with the slaves. I fucked them and I hurt them and finally it returned. I felt a man again, powerful and superior. Now that I had it back, I couldn't give it up, I couldn't return to that crippling existence. Not even for my only son.

I gazed into the mirror before me, my image almost hidden by the steam of the shower. I stared at the eyes, nose, and jawbone; none of the things Kurt had to resemble me, none of the things that would make a person stop and say. "My God, William! He's your double!" No, Kurt had too much of his mother in him. Physical and emotional. I needed him broken and then I needed him structured. Structured into the man I wanted him to be. I wanted him to be me. I loved him and God I loved his mother, but those feelings were in the past now. I'd made my decision, ruthless as it was and God forgive me.

We hurt the ones we love the most, it's a subtle form of discipline.

With a sob, I splashed the water onto my face. Washed the features that were so unlike Kurt's.

Washed away the sin. 

* * *

><p><strong>Kurt<strong>

My eyes flew open and that was it. No screaming, no struggling, no confusion. One minute I was asleep and the next I was awake. I felt the man's body next to me, warm and pulsating. My own body throbbed in a dull ache. I never imagined anything in the world could be so painful, that coming here could be so painful. Even as I thought this, I knew my naivety.

Instinctively, I knew the figure next to me was awake, and I froze. His hand pressed down on my shoulder and gently he turned me onto my back. I winced as my wounded flesh made contact with the silk and closed my eyes against the pain.

"Does it hurt?" He whispered in that low way of his. He blanched. "Of course it does. Would you like more lotion? It cools the stinging."

"No." I stared straight ahead at the white ceiling, not as a sign of defiance but indifference. Right now there was nothing he could do to hurt me.

"I'm sorry…It…It wasn't…All I can say is I'd do anything to take it back." His face took on an angry look. "To take it all back." He spat.

Finally, I gazed at him and my eyes locked to his. He looked shocked and couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.

"I remember when I was five, my mother coming into the kitchen. I sat in the middle of it, with this giant mound of dirt almost knee high. I smiled at her and continued attempting to feed it to my dog Sparks, but he kept spitting it back out." Although my memory was a happy one it wasn't evident in my monotone voice, I paused as I noted my Master's ghost of a smile and then continued. "My mother went ballistic because the maid had only just cleaned the floor. And I hated when my mother shouted at me, god I hated it. I instantly burst into tears. I told her I was just making mud pies, like she had made me and then she just started laughing, she was shaking with laughter and tears were running down her cheeks. Then she scooped me up and took me to make some actual mud pies." I didn't realise it but tears were running down my face now. "I guess I'm saying…I guess I want my Mom." The last part I whispered, my eyes locking out my master's sad expression. I felt his hand upon mine and he gave a gentle squeeze.

"Your mother?" He looked surprised, as if he never actually thought about my father being married before. "Annabel Lee?"

"You—you know her?" I asked. Of course he did, what paper hadn't her death made.

"_She was a child and I was a child, in this kingdom by the sea. But we loved with a love that was more than love- I and my Annabel Lee._" He whispered as if it were a sacred text. Then he smiled a real smile, large and silly but as soon as it came, it was gone

"My mother. She was named after that poem…" I murmured, sorry the moment was lost.

"You must get up, we have to train."

The fear returned as he helped me off the bed. I could crawl into the past as much as I wanted but that Kurt was gone and buried.

As I stood there, I couldn't help but tremble a bit. I hurt. And I was hungry. He went to the wall with 'the implements', took down a riding crop and a leather collar. He came back and fastened the collar around my neck. Then he attached a chain. It looked just like a dog leash. He wouldn't, would he?

"Now listen," he started seriously. "You're my first, and I'm making mistakes. I—I'm supposed to be harsh… I need… to make you strong. You—" He shook his head sadly, looking down at the floor. I could tell, in some ways, this was as hard for him as it was for me. Maybe even harder. "You've got to be silent when we leave here. Or I'll have to use this." He held the small whip up again. "Now get down on your hands and knees and for fucks sake, whatever happens, be quiet. Unless you're required to make noise. And you'll know. Believe me, you'll know."

I groaned, my sore body and stiff muscles protesting my actions. He brought that little whip down on my already sore back and I cried out suddenly. "Shit!"

He brought it down again. This time I remained quiet, cursing him in my head. I didn't realize it then, but his strokes weren't heavy. It was simply that last night's beating hadn't healed yet. However, it got the point across. When I'd finally gotten to all fours, he jerked on the leash and led me out into the hallway.

I immediately felt my body grow flushed with embarrassment. So much so, I didn't realize there were others like me out there as well.

He showed me where our communal facilities were and then he showed me how I was expected to bathe masters and the privileged, by bathing me. He was very gentle, especially on my still tender back and wrists. I didn't miss the vitriol to his low voice when he mentioned the people we were being trained for, though.

Then it was my turn to clean him. I hesitated for the longest moment and he seemed to understand.  
>"They're old, mostly. Healed… mostly. You won't hurt me."<p>

I felt chastised by that quiet admission. How could my father allow this type of abuse? I swallowed. How could he be a part of it? I did my best to copy all his moves. I must have pleased him, because he allowed the tiniest hint of a smile to the corner of his mouth before becoming serious.

"Wait here. I'll be right back." And with that he left me standing naked and wet in the slave showers.

"Well, well…" I turned, eyes wide as I took in Puck's sly grin. "I see you've had a _hard_ time of it."

He ran his hand over my wet hair and I trembled again. His fingers brushed against my cheek… along my jaw… down my chest… my eyes widened as they wrapped around my cock and began to work it. I wanted to look around, find Blaine, but my eyes were held by his dark, predatory gaze. I was helpless. His free hand wrapped itself behind my head and pulled me forward, his tongue thrusting inside as our lips met. I whimpered… in fear of what would happen next. I began to harden under his hands as I frantically wished for my master. Just as Puck began nipping my throat, I heard a growl. I didn't believe it human, but the next thing I knew Puck was being pulled from me. I stumbled back against the wall as Puck was thrown to the floor.

Blaine was beautiful in his wrath and he scared the hell out of me. He didn't say a word as he stood over Puck, raining blows down on him. Then the woman I remembered as Madame Shelby grabbed his wrist. I cowered back, amazed at her strength.

"Enough, Blaine!"

"Teach him his place!"

Their eyes locked and I watched wide-eyed. Finally she let go of his arm. He lowered it slowly and then turned toward me. I cringed as he grabbed my leash and yanked me along. I started to drop to my knees. "No!" he ordered harshly. I shot back up, not quite as stiff, and followed him quickly. Loathe to have that anger directed any more fully at me.

The trip back to our room took mere moments, it seemed. Once inside, he dropped the leash and paced the room. What he was thinking, I had no hint and he was obviously not going to tell me. Soon he seemed calmer and he turned to me. His eyes were hard.

"Never look into the Master's eyes unless told to do so." I dropped my gaze immediately. He walked over to me and I cursed myself as my body shook.

"Suck my cock." He said the words so quietly I almost didn't understand. I fell to my knees, but hesitated. The crop struck my back. I didn't cry out this time. I don't know why I hesitated. It wasn't like I hadn't done this before.

Since he was soft, I thought I'd start by running my hands up the inside of his legs to massage the soft flesh, but apparently that was wrong. The crop hit my back again.

"When you're told to suck, that's what you do. Nothing else." His low voice was calm. No hint of the terrible anger that had been there earlier. I thought about the task at hand... or out of it, actually. Fortunately he seemed patient, as if he understood my dilemma. I didn't really want to feel that sting again.

I leaned in, but my balance was off, so I braced my hands on my knees and pushed my face into his groin. I smiled inwardly as it was his turn to tremble. The flaccid muscle jumped beneath my face as it began filling rapidly. I teased him, took the tip in my mouth, curled my tongue under it and sucked softly. A low moan slipped from my master's lips and he hardened further. I smiled again, not bothering to hide it. This was something I did know how to do, after all. I'd show him.

I swallowed his length slowly, rubbed my nose in thick curls when I reached the base, then made my way back up just as slowly, swirling my tongue around the end when I reached it. He keened lowly and I picked up my pace. Suddenly he fisted my hair and began fucking my mouth. I began to choke. Frightened by his sudden, forceful assault, I made the mistake of pushing against him. He gripped my hair harder, bringing tears to my eyes. For a just a moment I considered biting, but his words reminded me of my position, what I'd given myself over to.

"Don't. Don't make me hurt you, Kurt. I—I don't want to, but I will if I have to…

So I let him use me, without a fight. Finally he came. I choked and coughed, unable to swallow around his cock pressed to the back of my throat. When I thought I would suffocate, he finally pulled out and released me. I spit out what hadn't run out, or managed to find its way down my throat. The crop struck my back.

"Never spit out the offering of a better. Now clean it up."

I stared up at him, incredulous. He couldn't mean… but when he raised his arm, I knew he did. I lowered my eyes to the floor. At least it was concrete, and not dirt. The crop hit my back again and I flinched. "It will only get worse, Kurt. I—I have to hurt you to help you…" A short knock at the door before it opened. The crop fell again and this time I knew it was hard. There was quite a difference. I bent down and began to lick at the floor, heat flowing over me again at the humiliation of others seeing me do this.

I heard the door slowly creak open and footsteps behind me. The burn of my humiliation increased as I lapped up the cum.

"Master Blaine?" A quiet voice that I guessed belonged to a fellow slave. My Master paused for a moment.

"Leave the food over there." I heard the movement of the slave behind me as he hurried to obey. The floor now clean I risked a glance at my Master. He stared at the other slave, his cheeks reddened yet his eyes were hard. "You may leave Philip." His voice low and gentle now, full of empathy. The slave gone, Blaine felt my gaze he looked towards me and nodded to himself.

"Our training isn't over, Kurt, you still have so much to learn." My heart beating almost out of my chest, I realised how right he was.


End file.
